Astonishingly, Hanagawa

The dark little birds hurtling from the sky sent Hiroshi scrambling towards shelter. Once safely under the bamboo shed’s roofing and conscious of the hammering overhead, he looked back. Astonishingly, Hanagawa was walking calmly down the forest path towards him. Her wide-brimmed farmer’s hat offered paltry protection and seeing her continue stubbornly, despite being knocked-off stride repeatedly by the beaked projectiles, turned Hiroshi’s blind panic into disbelief.

Was she mad? Why wasn’t she running for her life?

He knew he had not married an ordinary country girl. Since their wedding, Hiroshi had heard whispers about Hanagawa, her family and their habits. Whenever he asked for an explanation, the wagging tongues of the village would say that the peculiarities of Hanagawa’s character were typical of north country people. Then the voices would fall silent. A silence caused more by uneasiness than deference, Hiroshi always felt. Subjecting oneself to lashings by suicidal birds would only serve to lend credence to such wild rumors.

As she entered the shed, Hanagawa took off the hat, letting her hair fall loose. On seeing him staring at her, she laughed disquietingly.

“Why are you laughing? Why did you not hurry when the birds were attacking you? You might have gotten yourself blinded!”

Hanagawa’s expression changed to the kind of concerned look that always made him uneasy.

“Hiroshi-san,” she began gently, her voice carrying an undercurrent of concern,
“Birds, you said? What birds?”

Hiroshi followed her gaze back up the forest path which was littered with dozens of . . . tempting, rosy peaches. Had his eyes deceived him?

“Dear husband. Did you say that birds attacked me? Those are only ripened fruits. Be truthful. Are you seeing and hearing things again?”

Hanagawa gave Hiroshi the look again.

Photo from Unsplash.com by Masoomeh Salek

The Extinction of the Tie in the Wild

I’d been out and about during the late 20th Century and the tie was a thriving species back then

My daughter began using a tie to secondary school. It was part of her uniform. I told her that the tie, in the wild, had died out by the late twentieth century, and she didn’t believe me. She said her school still requires ties. And she’d watched programs on tv with black tie events. So she said,
‘What do you mean, it’s extinct?’

Those are domesticated ties, I explained, which continue to live in extremely limited circumstances and places.
But I’d been out and about during the late 20th Century and the tie was a thriving species back then, found in offices and industries and on the street and stages. We even used it ourselves as part of our work attire. I remember having several ties and trying to match them to my shirts during the work week. Our clients were also formally dressed, in corporate offices and meetings. On the streets, in towns all over the country and in the region, I’d seen people walking about with all sorts of living things around their necks.

Security personnel. Salesmen. Boarding School boys in town after classes. They all wore a variety of ties. I’d seen men (and women, looking for ties for the men in their lives) hang about department stores, holding and feeling ties, occasionally holding one up against their chest to look at the reflection in the mirror. At the end of a working day, someone would have their tie removed, folded and tucked into their breast pocket, with a triangle of colour sticking up. Or wear it loose with an unbuttoned collar, like a noose.

All this had happened and then, I began noticing in the early years of the new century that clients began to prefer a more casual look. Short-sleeved or long-sleeved shirts yes. Shirts yes, but no tie. Jeans showed up on Fridays and then gradually creeped into other days of the week. T-shirts, more comfortable and fashionable, became a common sight. Slowly, gradually, the tie began dying out. We – my colleagues and I – began using the tie less. We found that we were too formal, unnecessarily so. Removing the tie while wearing long or short sleeved shirts allowed us to maintain a sense of professionalism while not appearing too crusty.

The tie, in its many colours and patterns, disappeared from my cupboard. Completely. I stopped using that article of clothing. No shopping for it. In fact, I’d stopped noticing it when I went to department stores, although no doubt, they still kept a menagerie of ties. It disappeared from most of our electronic screens and pages. The tie disappeared from the streets and nearly all of our clients’ offices and board rooms and meeting rooms. We’d know who were the senior personnel by their long or short sleeved shirts and that was enough. There was no need for the tie to formalise things. The position. The authority.

And so, in the wild, the tie became extinct. It only now could be seen in certain environments. Certain places. Schools. Special events. I’d think of these ties as the domesticated variety. The wild ones had gone. And I’d seen it happen.

photo from unsplash.com by Glodi Miessi

The Principle of the Monster Surprise

We all think we’ve met Monsters in our lives. That may or may not be true. But do we know how to deal with one when we do?

God bless the Monster. It’s a decent thing actually. It wants to be loved like every other living thing. It’s appearance can be improved no doubt but I’d say that’s perfectly acceptable considering it’s got a beating heart, like you and me, inside. Which makes it ultimately, lovable. Don’t prejudge a monster. Don’t do that. Walk right up to the Monster. Look it in the eye, kindly. Be respectful. And that’s when the surprise happens.

Continue reading “The Principle of the Monster Surprise”